


Heartless Cold (Brave and Bold)

by Cap_Sweet_And_Salty_Sadness



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Bottom Olgierd, Consensual Rough Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Oral Sex, Sassy Geralt, Shameless Smut, Smut, We all love a sassy Geralt, top geralt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 18:57:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15869724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cap_Sweet_And_Salty_Sadness/pseuds/Cap_Sweet_And_Salty_Sadness
Summary: Geralt was cut short as his collar was yanked forward, his mouth captured in a bruising kiss. Olgierd’s moustache tickled, was all Geralt had time to think about, involuntary gasping at the tongue probing his lips. He jerked away once his stupor washed away, offended at being manhandled this way.“What are you doing?” He gritted out, prying Olgierd’s hand off of him and pushing it away. What was this sudden rush of attraction? And for someone who had been playing with him, forcing him into situations almost impossible to get out of? Why did he want that arrogant bastard?“Building on ruins,” Olgierd said with a cocky smile.





	Heartless Cold (Brave and Bold)

**Author's Note:**

> I had to write this, even if it litterally took me months. I did my best to keep them in character, and I think the both of them sassying each other pretty much defined their relationship - before and while fucking.
> 
> Title is taken from the lyrics of "[Lullaby of Woe](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s2oVSwflClQ)", from the game's beautiful OST. I'm biased to the [Polish version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BEvCVJi1SJg) though, since I played the game in the OV.

Colours were brightening the sky, hues of yellow and orange and red blossoming with the rising sun. They warmed up Olgierd’s skin, turned his copper hair into a halo of fire, highlighted the scars on the side of his head.

“I’ve a heart again, yet all it feels is grief, sadness and defeat. My life is a ruin,” Olgierd sighed. He gazed at the horizon that was giving them another day, and Geralt was gazing at him, leaning against one of the rocks littered around them and his arms crossed, a witness to his confession. He always preferred to appear out of reach in dire situations, giving advice easier when he didn’t have to step in the eye of the storm.

“Ruins can be built on,” he supplied, met Olgierd’s gaze when he finally threw him a look, his features partly remaining in the shadows.

“Can they?” He pondered, unsure, but the seed had been sowed. His shoulders slowly relaxed, lost that recoiled tension, his frown smoothed away.

“You’ve been in tougher situations, you’ll figure it out. You’ve got your fortune, a house…”

“No,” Olgierd sharply said. “I cannot live as I did before.”

“So what you’ll do?” Geralt asked, curious. Would someone, given the opportunity to start again, to let the sins of the past behind, still choose to remain in the mind prison of their own guilt?

“It’s time I took fate into my own hands. Lived life anew… and truly, this time.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Olgierd nodded, his jaw set with solemn, the hand on his sword relaxed. “All thanks to you, witcher. I’ll never forget what you did for me. I have something for you.”

He unsheathed his sword, presented it to him, the one last thing he cherished in this world. It had been passed through his family for generations, and now he deemed Geralt worthy enough to have it. He couldn’t.

“I can’t take it.”

“Do me the honor.” Olgierd placed the pommel in his hand when Geralt made no move to take it. The sword was comfortable, perfectly balanced, a beautiful piece.

“Thank you.” He called Roach to him, removed the steel sword at his back to put it in one of the bags on his horse and replaced it with Olgierd’s sword. He turned back to say goodbye, yet another quest on his mind, but he was cut short as his collar was yanked forward, his mouth captured in a bruising kiss. Olgierd’s moustache tickled, was all Geralt had time to think about, involuntary gasping at the tongue probing his lips. He jerked away once his stupor washed away, offended at being manhandled this way.

“What are you doing?” He gritted out, prying Olgierd’s hand off of him and pushing it away. What was this new rush of attraction? And for someone who had been playing with him, forcing him into situations almost impossible to get out of? Why did he want that arrogant bastard?

“Building on ruins,” Olgierd said with a cocky smile, nonplussed by Geralt’s reaction. It never occurred to the witcher that Olgierd had been mostly surrounded by men every time he’d visit him, that he’d betrayed the only person he’d loved. Geralt very well understood lust and passion were often the only feelings that could warm up an otherwise insensitive heart, for he had lived that way for a long time.

“I want to feel something else than pain and suffering,” Olgierd continued. “Will you relieve me, distract me of those, if only for a moment?” He dragged a rough finger down his cheek, into his beard, to pull at his bottom lip, very clear in his intentions. Geralt drew a deep breath, met the hunger in his heavy lidded eyes, and started removing his sword harnesses, unbuckling his armour to let fall in the dirt.

Olgierd grinned and untucked his own large belts, dropped his ornate robe and undershirt. “You are willing, then?”

Geralt growled and pulled him by the shoulders. “Shut up.” He kissed him roughly, their chests pressed together. His lips were chapped, his beard tickling where he was used to soft skin, and as Geralt slid his hands down his back, he only met firm muscles. Olgierd cupped his face with his calloused hands and shifted to deepen their kiss with a hum of pleasure. Geralt didn’t remember the last time someone had kissed him with such intensity. Hot desire stirred his cock.

Olgierd got on his knees in front of him, mouthed the defined muscles of his stomach as he worked his breeches opened. Soon he pushed them down and gripped his cock, stroking it with a tight grip that made Geralt pant.

“Stop thinking and enjoy yourselves, will ya?” Olgierd purred and kept his eyes on his face as his slick red mouth wrapped itself around his head; tantalizing, teasing. He looked so pretty like this, his ginger hair falling before his green eyes, and his mouth for once too busy to lure him on. Geralt swept this bangs away, cradled his head in his hand, but for the moment he was content to simply watch suck him deeper and deeper. He was skillful and the thought of him doing this with other men, being fucked by them, wouldn’t leave his mind.

Olgierd swept his tongue down to his balls, tugged on each of them as he stroked his length hard and fast, then licked a path back to the head, sloppy and slurping.

“You enjoy being on your knees with a dick down your throat, don’t you?” Geralt grunted. He pressed against the back of his head, urged him to take his cock deeper until it hit the back of his throat. Olgierd hummed and relaxed before taking the last few inches until his lips rested around his pubic bone, his mouth stretched wide, and he swallowed.

“ _Kurwa._ ” Geralt began to fuck his mouth good, knowing he could take it. Olgierd’s hands gripped his thighs but didn’t seem to mind being manhandled at all, instead he shifted to release the growing pressure in his breeches. He kept slurping and making these small satisfied moans every time Geralt pushed his cock in his soft mouth, sucking him fast and greedily, spit dripping down his chin. Such devotion spread a pool of hot pleasure at the base of Geralt’s spine. The sight and the wet sounds became too much, and he came as deep as he could, hands like a vice at the back of Olgierd’s head. He released him once he was done, his chest heaving and sweat gathering at the small of his back.

Olgierd spat on the floor, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and took deep breaths. His lips were red and swollen, his eyes unfocused and hazy. He hadn’t touched himself at all, his cock deliciously tenting his breeches with a telling damp spot.

“Get up,” Geralt ordered him, yanked him up by the armpits when he didn’t immediately complied. “Undress.”

“Didn’t know witchers were so commanding. Is this revenge for you?” Olgierd smirked. “Can’t say I mind that much.” He unlaced his breeches, let them pool to the ground and carelessly abandoned them in a pile with his boots, completely naked. His body was thickly muscled and littered with scars, from a blade or fire; some puffy and pink, others thinner than his little finger. Each of them probably had a story, just like Geralt’s did. Although he very rarely paid attention to men’s bodies, there was no denying Olgierd was ruggedly handsome. His cock stood proud in front of him, the tip crimson and glistening with precome. Geralt wanted to mark his narrow hipbones, the insides of his thick thighs, fuck him so hard he’d remember their encounter every time he sat down.

Just as he’d been observing him, Olgierd was doing the same. From his expression, he liked what he was seeing. Geralt gestured at the large flat stone he sat on earlier during their conversation. “Get on your hands and knees here,” he instructed him. Olgierd looked at the rough surface, then at him with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re planning on fucking me? Your cock’s still soft.”

“Just do as I say,” Geralt huffed. He fumbled through his bags to retrieve a vial of simple oil, meant to mix in a concoction and not used as lubricant, but this would do. He’d used worst in the past. He turned back to Olgierd who on all fours and stretching his back on the rock, showing his ass without any shame. Geralt approached and followed the long line of his spine with his hand, smirked when he felt him shiver. He took a moment to stroke his back and ass, feel the strong muscles roll under his fingers.

“Feels good,” Olgierd moaned, leaned against his hands. He gasped in pain and pleasure when Geralt unexpectedly smacked an ass cheek, then the other one.

“I’ll make you feel again, if that’s what you want.”

He saw Olgierd’s cock twitched, a pretty sight between his outstretched legs. “Yes, please. Fuck me good.”

“The only way I fuck.” Geralt spread oil on his digits and pushed one against his tight hole, watched it hungrily take it. He prepared him thoroughly, rough but thorough, and deemed him ready when Olgierd began to thrust back against his fingers. Geralt slicked his cock that was hard again after staring so long at the man stretched before him, and Olgierd certainly noticed when he rubbed himself against his ass, impatient.

“So that’s how it is,” he purred. “Another witcher’s mutation?”

“My work requires a lot of stamina. Now shut up for once and hold still.” Geralt positioned his cock and pushed in, slowly working his way in inch by inch until he was resting against his ass. Geralt was holding him tightly by the hips, hoped it’d leave bruises.

Geralt didn’t give him time to adjust. He pulled back and thrusted back in, again and again in a fast, ruthless pace, his balls slapping against his sweaty skin. Olgierd could barely keep up, his hands and knees digging into the rough uneven surface of the rock, but he was barely noticing with the thorough pounding he was getting. He leaned on his forearms, widened his knees and arched his back with a deep moan, just taking it.

Geralt spread his cheeks and watched his cock disappear in him, the sounds they were making loud  in the quiet of the dawn. Olgierd had been nothing but loud and careless before, and now he was moaning and whimpering with every thrust, and he became even more of a mess when Geralt shifted his angle and his cock touched him at all the right places.

“You’re taking my cock so well,” Geralt grunted, never stopping his fast pace. Olgierd didn’t seem to be able to answer, dipping his head to lean his forehead against the rock. “Can’t speak? Good.”

Olgierd’s snicker turned into a surprised yelp when Geralt grabbed him around the waist to pull him against him and keep him there, bracing a booted foot on the rock to go deeper. He bit into his neck, not deep enough to draw blood, but enough to mark him. With a loud moan and a flutter of his hole around Geralt, Olgierd took his cock in hand and only stroked himself a few times before cumming hard, his whole body going taunt.

Geralt fucked him through it, his ratty breaths in Olgierd’s ear telling him he was close. Olgierd let go of his dick and rested his head against his shoulder, loose and pliant. It only took a minute before Geralt was spilling himself in him with a deep grunt, holding onto him until he was done. Olgierd stroked his arm, traced his scars, his gaze obstructed by silver hair. It was softer than he thought it would be.

Geralt sighed and nuzzled the hollow of his exposed throat, lingered a kiss on the bite mark before he let him go. They both groaned when he pulled out, Olgierd aching in a good way. He would feel it for a few days. They put on back their clothes in silence, the sun high in the sky by then, and Geralt was the last to strap his silver sword to his back, Olgierd lingering by his horse.

“So where are you heading?” Geralt inquired, tying back his hair for his ride. Olgierd looked at the horizon, smiled softly.

“I heard Novigrad is the place to go to start a new life…”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](http://cap-sweet-and-salty-sadness.tumblr.com/). Bywaj!


End file.
